


Ganache in the Middle

by kayliemalinza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way to get Anna's Grace back in <i>Heaven and Hell</i>, they stop for a slice of cake.</p><p>Teaser: "You're hungry?" asks Sam, glancing at Ruby in the side view mirror, because it makes him feel good to be a good boyfriend. He doesn't even throw her into walls much, anymore.</p><p>Anna glances at her out of the corner of her eye, like they're two hot chicks in the backseat with stupid boys up front, like they're in league together, like they're gonna giggle and share the earbuds on an iPod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ganache in the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt, "Anna/Ruby that isn't sad." (Bittersweet and smug is technically not sad, right?)

The diner they stop at has a display case full of gargantuan pastries: five different kinds of chocolate cake cut into slices four inches thick and as wide as Sam's hand. It's pure coincidence--or maybe Ruby worked a little witchcraft when they stopped for gas. Maybe she crouched in the gravel behind the bathroom and when she got back to the car, her fingers smelled like a burnt-up dandelions.

"Anyone else jonesing for some french fries?" she asks casually, when the next exit is the right one. 

Dean scoffs. He always thinks she's up to something. And yeah, she is. But her somethings are better than his somethings, so suck on that, you hammer. Dean never sat at Lilith's knee; he never learned how to get what he wanted with nice instead of knives.

"You're hungry?" asks Sam, glancing at her in the side view mirror, because it makes him feel good to be a good boyfriend. He doesn't even throw her into walls much, anymore.

Anna glances at her out of the corner of her eye, like they're two hot chicks in the backseat with stupid boys up front, like they're in league together, like they're gonna giggle and share the earbuds on an iPod.

Ruby winks.

"Yeah, I'm starving," says Anna, and leans forward, drapes her arm over the bench seat, exerts some feminine wiles on Dean. She's blocky and over-earnest and curvaceous without commitment, like a shallow wooden spoon. It works, though, because Dean's an on-switch/off-switch kinda guy. Not like Sam, you know? Sam is complicated and twisted up and a little too smart for anybody's good. He's a challenge. He's gonna be the greatest king she's ever made. 

The pastry case is right by the door when they walk in, and Anna stands there, a millimeter and a couple decades shy of pressing her nose to the glass, and isn't that weird to think about? Anna used to be a _baby_. A brat running around with the memories of millennia snuggled into their subconscious. A Warrior of God who pissed their pants.

"Look, Dean, chocolate cake," says Anna, and she and Dean share a Meaningful Glance. Dean springs a chubby, as if he had anything to do with this.

Ruby throws her bag up against the corner of the seat and crams her ass next to it. Sam slides in after her, gawky and practiced in the equation of Big Man vs. Small Places. He kicks the pole in the middle of the table, anyway. He blocks the light.

"You okay?" he asks. If Dean weren't about to walk up, he'd put his arm around her. 

"Yeah," says Ruby. "A little nervous, I guess. About tomorrow."

"We'll be fine," says Sam.

If Dean weren't here, he would kiss her. And maybe she'd bite his lip, just to keep her street cred.

Anna slides in across from them, presses her shoulder to the fogged-up window. Dean comes in after her like they're on a cozy double date and it's just coincidence that he and Sam are blocking the escape routes. Like Ruby couldn't smoke out and flicker the lights and swoosh through the air ducts. Like she couldn't plume across the sky and block the moon, if she wanted. 

The waitress follows them and sets down a huge slice of cake before they even order their drinks. Anna offers Ruby a fork.

"I'm just gonna get some fries," says Ruby. "But thanks."

Anna keeps smiling, and her eyes are dark and sad and beguiling and hopeful. She wants to provide succor, or some crap like that. "You're not seriously gonna make me eat this all by myself," she says. "That's just cruel." 

Ruby has to give her credit for her acting; Anna doesn't even play the line for irony. She doe-eyes at Ruby like she really is some coddled college kid who thinks going up a pantsize is a tragedy. But Ruby heard rumors, you know? That angels walked the streets of plague-towns, watching. 

Sam and Dean don't want any cake. Dean's zeroed in on the pretentious hamburger selection and Sam is looking for a salad big enough for his belly and his self-righteousness. Ruby loves him. She's going to fill him up with the biggest thing in the world.

Anna twirls the fork, slow and graceless. 

"I guess I'll have a couple bites," says Ruby, and smiles at her the way she smiles at Sam, by accident.


End file.
